Early August in the Wushan Territory. A blazing sun hung high in the sky, baking the earth until the very air seemed to warp with heat.
Yet Roning was dressed in stuffy noble attire, walking along a smooth, bluestone-paved road toward the highest point of the estate—the Wushan Fortress.
Just over ten minutes ago, he had been a game designer pulling an all-nighter on a project proposal. He never expected to die from overwork, only to be reborn in an Otherworld as the son of a nobleman.
He hadn't even had time to process his predecessor's memories before being marched under the watchful eyes of the Guards to the Wushan Fortress, where a trial against him awaited.
Thankfully, the walk was long, giving Roning time to digest some of his predecessor's memories and get a handle on his current predicament.
It turned out this was an Extraordinary World that, on the surface, resembled Earth's early medieval period, but in reality, possessed Fighting Qi and Magic.
The person he had transmigrated into was named Roning Wushan, the eldest grandson of the Marquis of Wushan Clan and the rightful heir to the Marquis's title.
But despite being raised in a top-tier noble family, this man had not only failed to master any form of Extraordinary Power, but had also wasted his life away at banquets and dances, indulging in fine wine and women, with no accomplishments to his name.
At a banquet just two days ago, his predecessor had gotten blind drunk and slept with a woman.
No one could have expected that the woman would commit suicide the very next day, leaving behind a note that accused his predecessor. The news spread like wildfire.
Logically, the private lives of many nobles were a mess. Sleeping with some woman at a banquet wasn't a big deal.
Even the suicide of a common woman wouldn't have been a major issue.
The problem, however, was that this woman's identity was far from ordinary. She was the youngest granddaughter of Count Ossen Hyde, the Border Count of Wushan Ridge.
The Wushan Territory was currently unstable, plagued by internal strife and external threats. And this particular Border Count not only came from a flourishing family but was also charged with the crucial task of defending the border.
As a result, even though the Border Count was the Marquis's Vassal, if relations soured and he decided to put in less effort—or none at all—on critical matters, the damage to the Wushan Territory would be incalculable.
Because of this, upon hearing the news, his predecessor's father—who had just returned from a military campaign—punched him. He had only meant to teach the boy a lesson, but he never expected to kill him outright.
As his memories reached this point, Roning's heart grew heavy with anxiety and dread.
'Will the Wushan family sacrifice me for the stability of the territory and the clan?'
'It seemed very likely!'
'After all, his predecessor's mother had died young, his father didn't care for him, and his grandfather showed him no affection. He had no power base to support him. His political standing was high, but his position was precarious.'
'How did I end up in such a thorny situation right after transmigrating?'
Roning sighed inwardly. He glanced to his left and right, but the sight of the Guards following him completely extinguished any thought of slipping away.
Sigh...
The Marquis's Mansion was vast. It was filled with countless sights like rockeries, fountains, and flower gardens, each one a testament to the Wushan Clan's splendor and deep-rooted heritage.
Ascending the wide staircase, he saw a massive military fortress built entirely of white jade, standing atop a small hill. It was both magnificent and imposing.
This was the Wushan Fortress.
Roning was awestruck by the sight for only a moment before anxiety once again took hold.
He was about to face not only his father, Earl Wiggin—the man who had killed his predecessor with a single punch—but also the furious representatives of the Hyde Clan, who had come demanding justice.
Both parties were eager to unleash their fury upon him. How could a poor rookie transmigrator like him possibly withstand such wrath?
'Oh, spirits of heaven and earth, let my legendary Golden Finger appear and save its master!'
As an avid fan of games and novels, he knew that every Transmigrator was blessed with a Golden Finger.
In this desperate situation, it was his only hope.
Perhaps in response to his plea, a line of text began to flash in his vision:
[Activates Upon Obtaining a Noble Title]
Roning was overjoyed when he saw the words. He really did have a Golden Finger.
But when he read the message clearly, the smile on his face froze. The Golden Finger had to be activated!
'A Noble Title... That's not so easy to get.'
Although his predecessor had inheritance rights, to become the Marquis of Wushan, he would first have to wait for his grandfather to die, and then for his father to pass away. Only then would it be his turn.
Alternatively, his father might have granted him the title of Viscount or Baron after he graduated from the Extraordinary Academy, but that was still a year away.
Besides, Roning was currently facing not only Wiggin's wrath but also the risk of being "sacrificed." Where was he supposed to get a Noble Title now?
'A Golden Finger I can't even activate... This isn't just bad luck, this is bad luck inviting its whole damn family over!'
Words couldn't describe his misery.
"Young Master Roning, the lords are waiting for you inside!"
After escorting Roning to the fortress entrance, the Guards took up positions on either side. Their captain gestured for him to enter alone.
Standing beneath the five-meter-high gates of the fortress, Roning felt utterly insignificant. He lifted his gaze and peered inside. Dozens of meters away, at the far end of the hall, he could faintly make out several figures.
The atmosphere was heavy, oppressive.
'What's coming is coming. There's no escaping it.'
He took a deep breath and stepped inside.
There were no Guards posted along the sides of the great hall. It seemed they didn't want the argument inside to be overheard.
'Maybe things aren't as bad as I imagined.'
Roning comforted himself as he quickly reached the end of the hall. There, he got a clear view of the five people present.
Directly ahead, seated on a high throne of jade, was an old man with salt-and-pepper hair and a deeply wrinkled face.